


It's Always You

by Gemilyca3



Series: It Just Sort of Happened [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angry John, Case Fic, Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, F/M, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemilyca3/pseuds/Gemilyca3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rewrite of His Last Vow. The story starts where John finds out that Mary lied about her identity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Always You

The door to 221 Baker Street flew open as John stormed across the threshold and up the seventeen stairs into the first floor flat. Sherlock and Mary entered, more calmly, shortly after. John was in a rage, pacing back and forth across the living room, so angry he couldn’t even form a coherent thought. Mary carefully approached him, but scurried away as soon as she saw the fury in his eyes. Sherlock stood in the doorway observing. Once John seemed to have calmed down a bit, Sherlock convinced him to listen to what Mary had to say. 　　　　

"Sit. You sit there. That’s where _they_ sit,” ordered John. 　　　　

"Who?" questioned Mary. 　　　　

"Clients. That's what you are right now. You're a client. If you want our help, SIT THERE!" John shouted at Mary, trying to hold back all the anger bubbling at the surface. 　　　　

Everyone took their respective seats as Mary began telling her story.

\--- 　　　　

John was still sitting, practically comatose, in his chair when Sherlock came back from letting Mary out. The notepad he had been using had fallen on the floor, and he couldn’t even bring himself to pick it up. He felt vacant. He did notice, just barely, when Sherlock bent down to retrieve the pad and place it on the coffee table; it was an unusually thoughtful gesture, and John was grateful for it. 　　　　

"Tea, John?" John gave no reply until Sherlock stood right in front of him. Noticing the shoes now in his vision, John finally looked up 　　　　

"Can I stay here tonight? In my old room? I don't think I can go back with Mary right now." 　　　　

Sherlock nodded and walked into the kitchen. "Tea?" he asked again, even as he reached in the cabinet for two mugs. 　　　　

When he brought the steaming cups into the living room, John took his with an automatic, "Thanks." 　　　

“Do you want to…talk about it?” Sherlock asked a few minutes later, and it was almost funny, the thought of them sitting down to have a heart-to-heart conversation. Sherlock didn’t do hearts, not the metaphorical ones, anyways. John put his cup on the table and got up. 　　　　

"I don't think I can at the moment. I think I'm just going to go to bed. See you in the morning, Sherlock." 　　　　

Sherlock replied "Do try to get some sleep, John." 　　　　

"I could say the same to you," John managed to chuckle as he went up the stairs.

\--- 　　　　

Sunlight shone in through the curtains in John's room, rousing him from sleep. He had slept well, considering. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting around the room and remembering that he was at Baker Street, not at his new house. He had forgotten how comfortable he felt here, not that he didn't feel comfortable there with Mary... Mary. He had no idea how he was going to deal with her. How could he ever trust her again? She betrayed him. Could he ever forgive her? He forgave Sherlock relatively easily after The Fall, so why couldn't he seem to fathom forgiving Mary? He had come to expect crazy, inappropriate behavior from Sherlock, but Mary, she was supposed to be a source of stability and normalcy. He just needed some time, maybe. And then there was the baby to think about. For a wild moment he even wondered if she was even really pregnant, if she’d lied about that , too...But of course she was. He might not have figured it out as quickly as Sherlock did, but he was a doctor and he was at all of Mary's doctor’s appointments. He had seen sonograms. The baby. What were they going to do about the baby? What was going to happen to his baby if he couldn’t forgive Mary? _I'll have to forgive her. For the baby. It's the right thing to do._ Shaking his head, trying to clear all this confusion out of his mind, John pushed back the covers and got out of bed. _Tea, I need tea. Tea fixes everything. It's too early to be thinking like this without some tea._ 　　　　

John saw Sherlock open his eyes as he entered the living room; the detective had fallen asleep on the couch again. “’Morning,” John sleepily mumbled to Sherlock as he stumbled into the kitchen and put on the kettle to make their morning tea. It didn’t take any extra thought to grab the bread and set the toaster as well. When he carried breakfast out into the main room, Sherlock had assumed his thinking position, so John just shoved cup and plate up to his face. Grabbing the plate, Sherlock looked up at John and said, "Thank you." 　　　　

John looked down at him with slight surprise on his face. “Um, you’re welcome?” he replied. Sherlock kept staring at him. It looked like he wanted to say more, but couldn't figure out the right words. John paused for a moment to see if Sherlock was going to say something else, but, for now, they ate their breakfast in silence.

\--- 　　　　

John had been staying at Baker Street for a couple of days by now. He seemed to be getting back into his old routine: the one before Mary, before The Fall, before his life took a turn down a road he would have never imagined. Well, a second turn down that road. Mary was coming back today; she said she wanted to talk, to try to explain her side of the story as his wife, not a client. John wasn't sure how he felt about seeing her again: He did miss her, he loved... had loved?... loved her, of course he would miss her. Still… 　　　　

Just as he was finishing his tea, Sherlock emerged from his bedroom, dressed and ready to start the day. 　　　　

"John, Mary will be here in 20 minutes. Are you ready?" 　　　　

"Ready for what? To see my pregnant wife who lied to me and betrayed my trust and who is now our client? Yea, of course!" John answered, letting his confusion spill out in sarcasm as he ascended the stairs to his room. Sherlock got the message. _Nope. Not ready then._ 　　　　

Mary showed up around 10:30, as John was fidgeting in his armchair and Sherlock tapped away on John’s computer. She didn’t reveal anything new about her past life, she just reiterated that Magnussen had information on her and blackmailed her to the point of needing to leave her old life behind completely. She lingered on talking about how when she met John, none of that seemed to matter as much, and how she fell in love. John had to get up and leave when she started talking like that; it brought up too many conflicting emotions that he just couldn't deal with. Sherlock's eyes followed him out of the room, and then turned back to Mary. John peered out of the kitchen a few seconds later and said, “I can’t do this right now, Mary. I think you should just go.” Sherlock let her out of the apartment. After he heard the door close, John came back into the room. He was sitting on the sofa, slouched over with his face in his hands, when he felt Sherlock sit next to him. Pulling his hands away from his face, John turned to look at Sherlock, who he realized had no sense of personal space when he became almost nose-to-nose with his friend. Sherlock reached out a hand and patted the doctor’s shoulder, as a sign of comfort, John supposed. It was all very unusual behavior for Sherlock, so John gave him a questioning look. 　　　　

“Um, I’m just going to make some tea...” he finally spoke when Sherlock didn’t. But he could feel Sherlock’s lingering gaze as he got up to make the tea. 　　　　

"So, do we have a plan for how to deal with Magnessun?" he asked the detective as he tried handing him a cup of tea. Sherlock waved the cup away and assumed his thinking position on the sofa. 　　　　

"Need to think."

\--- 　　　　

"I think I should try to work things out with Mary" John informed Sherlock one morning a couple of weeks after seeing Mary again. Sherlock looked up from his microscope at the table and nodded. 　　　　

"Whatever you think is best, John." John noticed a look of what could be construed as sadness on Sherlock’s face as he spoke, but shook it off as just concentration. John was the one dealing with too many emotions. On the one hand, he wanted to make up with his wife, whom he still loved, to try and forgive her and learn to trust her again. But on the other hand, he had really enjoyed being back at Baker Street with Sherlock. He didn't realize how much he missed his friend being right there. Granted, it was nice not having to deal with the sulking, and random body parts being in random cooking appliances, and the violin playing at 3am, and, oh, who was he kidding, he thrived on that stuff. He hadn't felt this alive in months! But, no. He had made up his mind, he was going to go back to Mary and try to work this out. They hadn't even been married for 6 months yet! He had to try to make it work. For the baby…and for himself. Because he’d made a promise, with those wedding vows.

\--- 　　　　

The cab ride to the suburbs cost more than he expected, but somehow didn’t last long enough. He hadn’t taken too long to pack, after making up his mind, and Sherlock had hardly offered him a goodbye, and now he was back in front of the house. His and Mary’s house. They’d been so happy to have found this place, so perfect for them, especially with a baby on the way. It had two extra bedrooms, one for the nursery and another that they’d planned to turn into a guest room/office. John trudged up the steps to the front door, dug around his pockets for his keys, and let himself in. 　　　　

"Mary," he called as he walked through the door. "Mary, are you home?" 　　　　

No response. He set his bag next to the sofa in the living room and wandered into the master bedroom, where his wife's figure was visible beneath the duvet, sound asleep. He walked over to her sleeping form and whispered, "Mary, wake up. I'm home for now." 　　　　

"John?" she mumbled as she was roused from her nap. "John, you're back? Are you staying for good?" She sat up quickly as she realized that it wasn't a dream; John was actually home. 　　　　

"I... I want to try to work things out. Mary, this is going to be difficult, and I can't make any promises, and I still haven't forgiven you for how you betrayed me, but I can't just give up on our marriage. My vows actually mean something to me." 　　　　

Mary flinched at those last words. "John, our vows mean something to me too!" She tried to convince her husband, but John just shook his head. 　　　　

"For now, I’m going to stay in the guest room. I don't think I can share a bed with you again just yet. We'll see where it goes from there." 　　　　

Mary got up from the bed, wiping the last remnants of sleep from her eyes. She tried to embrace John but he stepped away. "John..." 　　　　

"I don't think I'm ready for that yet, Mary. I'll go make us some dinner."

\--

_Case! Come to Baker Street. -SH_ 　　　　

The text came after John had been back with Mary for two weeks. He looked down at his phone, trying to hide his grin from Mary, who was sitting just across the dinner table. He hadn’t had any contact with Sherlock since moving back with Mary, almost as though Sherlock understood they’d need some time alone. Nice as that was, John couldn’t help but feel slightly perturbed at not having been accosted with texts from his best friend; he could have used the distraction.

_On my way. Be there in 20. -JW_ 　　　　

"I'm going out this evening. I'll be back later, maybe. I might just end up crashing at Baker Street if we're out too late. There's a case." John got up from the table, cleared away his dishes, and retrieved his coat from the rack before heading out of the house. Mary was left, not knowing how to feel as her husband, who had only recently come back to her, left again. These weeks had been hard on Mary, John had noticed. He could tell she missed how their relationship used to be; he did too. But he just couldn’t shake the feeling that it was never going to go back to how it was. Even if he did end up forgiving her, he wasn’t sure if he would ever actually trust her again. 　　　　

John managed to hail a cab quickly and was on his way. The drive went by quicker than it had the last time, John realized as they pulled up to 221 Baker Street. He paid the driver and as he stepped out of the cab, the flat door swung open and Sherlock emerged with his billowing coat and blue scarf. 　　　　

"Keep that cab, John!" He ordered as he locked the front door. 　　　　

John shifted back into the cab and joked with the cabbie, "I guess you're not done with me yet!"

\--- 　　　　

"Evening, Sherlock. So what's the case?" John inquired once they were both in the cab, happy to see his friend again. 　　　　

“Missing wife of one Simon Roberts - Halley Roberts, an American from San Francisco. They have been married for twenty-eight years and were attending the wedding of their daughter. Mrs. Roberts excused herself during the reception and was not seen from again. The police were notified after a few hours but they are unable to declare a person missing before 24 hours. Apparently one of the guests is familiar with your blog and recommended us to Mr. Roberts.” 　　　　

“Missing persons? You don’t usually go for those. What’s so special about this one?” 　　　　

“Mr. Roberts found a cryptic message at the scene. He thinks it has something to do with his wife’s disappearance.” 　　　　

“Okay. So what other information do we have?” 　　　　

“Small wedding. Only close friends and family. Twenty-five people present, tops. Mrs. Roberts was last seen leaving the reception hall, heading towards the elevators, presumably to go back to her room. Right now we are on our way to the hotel to meet Mr. Roberts and get more details.” 　　　　

Ten minutes later they pulled up to a posh hotel. “Well, they must be rich” John remarked as he got out. 　　　　

“Yes, they are. Mrs. Roberts comes from family money and Mr. Roberts is a successful jeweler. Despite the small number of people attending the wedding, it has been all over the papers.” Sherlock paid the cab driver and they made their way inside but were immediately stopped by hotel security. 　　　　

“Invitation, please.” 　　　　

Sherlock glared at the guard and was about to retort back when John interceded. “We don’t have an invitation, but we were called here by Simon Roberts to investigate the disappearance of his wife.” 　　　　

“You’re the detectives! Right, you can go on in.” The guard stepped aside to let the duo pass. “We’ve been on high alert since that woman tried to crash the reception.” 　　　　

Sherlock spun around and demanded, “Tell me about this incident.” 　　　　

The guard was startled by Sherlock’s abrupt command. “Well, about an hour into the reception a woman managed to sneak past the front desk and was able to make her way into the reception hall before hotel staff caught her. She was yelling something about knowing a Hannah… or was it Hillary?” 　　　　

“Halley?” Sherlock asked. 　　　　

“Yeah! Halley. That’s it!” 　　　　

With this new information Sherlock marched into the hall in search of his client, John followed close behind. The reception hall was large for such a small party. Mr. Roberts was sitting at one of the tables with his daughter and new son-in-law, distress written all over his face. 　　　　

“Mr. Roberts, I am Sherlock Holmes and this is my colleague Dr. John Watson,” Sherlock said as he stuck out his hand in introduction. 　　　　

“Mr. Holmes, thank you for coming. My wife... I don’t know where she is. She...” He blubbered on nonsensically. 　　　　

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Yes we are aware of your situation, now if you would please stop crying and speak coherently.” 　　　　

John stepped on his foot, mumbled a warning _Sherlock_ , and gave him a look of _not good_. 　　　　

“What, John?” Sherlock retorted. John sighed, shook his head, and pulled up a chair. 　　　　

“Now, Mr. Roberts,” John started but was interrupted with a _please, call me Simon_ , “alright, Simon. Now why don’t you tell us about your wife?” 　　　　

“We met when I was 21, she was 18. I was doing a study abroad program at the University of San Francisco, where she was attending.” 　　　　

“Did you become a couple right away?” Sherlock rolled his eyes at John’s line of inquiry. He turned to walk away but John grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Sherlock. You need to listen if you’re going to solve the case.” 　　　　

“John, I alrea...” 　　　　

John quickly cut him off. “Sherlock. Sit. Down. Now.” When Sherlock sat down with a humph, John turned his attention back to the client. “Please continue, Simon.” 　　　　

“We weren’t a couple at all while I was in San Francisco. She was dating someone else at the time, whom I never met. We became friends though. We were in the same American History class.” 　　　　

“And how long was your program? What happened after you left?” John prompted Simon to continue. Even if this story was ancient history by now, perhaps it would help Sherlock understand the Roberts’ family dynamic. John was used to Sherlock pulling clues out of unexpected places. 　　　　

“I was there for a year. We had become quite good friends by that time and remained in contact after I came back to England. We wrote letters to each other often, and then a year and a half later she came to London on a study abroad program. I had already graduated by that time and had a job. We started dating about two months after she arrived. We got engaged that summer and she decided to transfer to London to complete her last year. We got married after she graduated and have been happily married ever since. Three years after we got married, we had Diana. It was the happiest day of our lives. And when Diana told us she was getting married, Halley was beaming with joy. The two of them had so much fun planning the wedding.” 　　　　

“So you didn’t notice any strange behavior in the last week or so?” 　　　　

“No. Nothing. She and Diana spent most of that time together just getting the last minute things ready for today...” Simon trailed off, thinking. “Now that you mention it, she did get a strange letter in the mail. That seemed to throw her off for a couple of days, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. Is that relevant? I didn’t see what the letter said. Oh! I should have said something!” 　　　　

“Calm down, Simon. It could be nothing…Did your wife commonly get written correspondences?” 　　　　

“When she first moved to England, she kept in touch with several friends from her university, and her family, of course. She lost touch with most of them throughout the years though. Occasionally she will tell me about an email from one of them trying to reconnect, although the correspondence never lasted for long.” 　　　　

“I see. What about this woman who tried to get into the reception? Do you have any idea who she is?” 　　　　

“None at all.” 　　　　

“Any theories?” John asked Sherlock. 　　　　

“John. If you would have let me speak sooner I would have told you I already solved it.” Sherlock said as he pulled out his phone. 　　　　

“But…solved it?” Simon spluttered. “I haven’t even shown you the message. Someone drew it on the wall in the hallway…” 　　　　

“Blue ink? About 50cm up from the floor?” Sherlock retorted, sounding completely uninterested. His audience gaped at him until he explained. “Your flower girl has blue ink on her fingers and dress. Four or five, is she? Not quite old enough to have learned not to color on the walls.” 　　　　

With that, he sat back and steadfastly ignored everyone until twenty minutes later, when DI Lestrade showed up with two women, one of whom was obviously the missing Mrs. Halley Roberts. 　　　　

“Halley! What happened! Where have you been? Who is this woman?” Simon jumped up as he saw his wife enter the room and rushed towards her, pulling her into an awkward hug. John noticed that something was off because she was not nearly as pleased to see her husband as he was her. 　　　　

But Sherlock interrupted the moment, saying, “This is your wife’s ex-lover, Mr. Roberts. Or perhaps not ex anymore.” This time John added a _there will be consequences_ to his _not good_ look. Sherlock just looked pleased at the din he’d caused, with the bride bursting into tears and the groom shouting at Sherlock and Mrs. Roberts pleading with her husband to listen and poor Greg uselessly trying to make order out of it all. Finally the groom led the bride away to recover, and Halley Roberts got her chance to speak. 　　　　

“I’m so sorry, Simon. I’m…really, I am. I’m sorry. This is Maggie. We…we were dating, back in California. Remember, when we met? She broke up with me just before I came to England, said she couldn’t do long distance, but I…I still loved her. That’s why I kept turning you down, at first. Remember? And then I got news that she’d been in a car accident, that she was dead, and I…that’s when I said yes. I’m sorry, Simon. All these years I thought she was dead and she wasn’t and then I got her letter, and then I saw her here, I saw her again and I…I’m so sorry.” All through his wife’s stumbling confession, Simon sat rigid and quiet, all expression drained from his face. When she had finally talked herself silent, he still said nothing. 　　　　

“And what were you doing ‘all these years,’ then,” Greg asked Maggie, from a mixture of personal and professional curiosity. 　　　　

“I was in an accident, that was true. I was in a coma for months and when I woke up I couldn’t get back in touch with Halley. Her family wouldn’t speak to me and she was half way across the world…and then, just recently she was all over the news. This wedding. I had to come. I just had to.” Maggie reached out and clutched at Halley’s hand desperately, and every eye followed the movement. 　　　　

Halley spoke again. “Simon…won’t you say something? I didn’t mean to…I didn’t mean for this, this mess. But Maggie…she was my first. My first love. I never really stopped…” 　　　　

John knew what he’d say to Halley Roberts. Ex-girlfriend shows up after more than twenty years and she runs off in the middle of her own daughter’s wedding? John would be furious. 　　　　

“I always wondered what made you change your mind about me so suddenly,” Simon said at last. His voice was eerily calm. “I’ve always wanted to make you happy, Halley. Whatever makes you happy, I want you to have.” 　　　　

John was staring at the man, he knew he was and he knew it was rude but he couldn’t help it. Was that it? ‘Whatever makes you happy?’ But then Simon must have felt John’s stare, because he looked over, and their eyes met. 　　　　

Simon Roberts was shattered. John could see it, almost felt like Sherlock, like he knew exactly what the man was thinking, just by looking at him. Over twenty years he’d given to this woman, to their family, and in one afternoon it fell apart. Simon Roberts had given his life and his love to a woman who would walk out on absolutely everything for the memory of a long-ago lover. What more could he give? What more could he say to try and keep her? How would fighting and back-biting help his daughter now? But then Simon looked back towards his wife and the moment was gone. Greg was quietly complaining to Sherlock for having brought him in on a simple domestic, Maggie and Halley were hugging each other tightly, and Simon and John were each sitting with their own thoughts. 　　　　

_The past always catches up with you. Sometimes no amount of effort can stop your world from falling apart._ It was almost a revelation, but surely revelations weren’t meant to leave you feeling so empty.

\--- 　　　　

By the time Christmas was around the corner, John had yet to hear about the plan Sherlock had concocted for Magnussen, other than that they needed to get into his fortress. Which, John had been informed, was practically impossible. He and Sherlock had been in contact with each other every day since they finished the Roberts case. They were seated across from each other in the living room at Baker street when John realized that he was rarely spending his days with Mary. It didn't even bother him much that he wasn't really missing her. 　　　　

"My mother is insisting that you and Mary come to Christmas dinner. She is also forcing me and Mycroft to come." Sherlock scowled as he passed along the invitation. "They live in the country so we'll have to stay there for the weekend. They have an extra room for you and Mary." 　　　　

"Ok. I'll let her know… although, I don't what we’ll do for a whole weekend. I still have no idea of what to say to her. We don't talk much at home, I mean, there have been several major arguments... I don't think I can forgive her, yet. And I'm still sleeping in the other bedroom." 　　　　

Sherlock didn’t offer any response, but then, John hadn’t expected him to. He’d been talking to himself, really. Maybe this was what he needed: a reason to gather all his chaotic thoughts and decide what he was go to say, what he was going to do about Mary once and for all.

\--- 　　　　

Mary was sitting in a large chair in front of the Holmes’ fire place when John entered the room. She closed the book she was reading, careful to mark where she left off, and looked up at him. Her eyes traveled over his face, trying to discern if he had come to a decision or not. His face was cold, and again she missed the warm looks he used to give her, before all this happened. She sighed with sadness and stood up. Now that she was about 7 months pregnant, it was harder for her to go from a sitting position to a standing one, so she stumbled as she tried to rise. John instinctively rushed to her side to help her. 　　　　

"Thanks, John," she said with a weak smile on her face, her hands moving to her belly. 　　　　

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he inspected her, making sure the baby was alright. "Oh, you know, have to pee every five seconds. The baby thinks that my bladder is a toy. My back is starting to hurt..." She tried to make joke of it, but John didn’t smile. 　　　　

"Listen, Mary… these past few months have been really hard on me. And I've really been trying to understand why you did the things you did. Why... why you lied to me, why you didn't feel like you could tell me, your husband, the father of your child, the love of your life, these things. It hurts. It really does. And I just don't..." he was choking on the words, he couldn't get them out, but he had to. "I just don't think I am ever going to be able to trust you again. I don't think this is something I will ever be able to forgive. This last case we worked just proved that to me even more. Marriage doesn't work if there isn't trust in the relationship... I vowed to be with you, Mary, through thick and thin, but the problem is, the woman to whom I made these vows doesn’t actually exist! " 　　　　

“But, John,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her face. “I _am_ that woman! She’s me, she’s who I’ve become!” 　　　　

“It’s not enough, Mary. There’s always a chance your past will catch up to you. And when that happens, Mary Morstan will cease to exist. I can’t be a part of that.” 　　　　

"Oh, John..." Mary didn't know what else to say. She tried to retain her composure, but a few more tears escaped from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. She stood there and took a deep breath. "I understand. But what about the baby? What are we going to do about... _her_?" 　　　　

John looked up at this revelation. Mary must have finally heard from the doctor. 　　　　

" _Her?!_ It's a girl? We're having a girl?" His eyes lit up when he talked about the baby. Mary missed seeing his eyes light up like that for her, but she knew that it wasn't going to happen again, so she would take what she could get. She stepped closer to him. 　　　　

"The doctor called yesterday, I just hadn't had the chance to tell you yet." His hand moved to her belly, where his daughter was. _Daughter_. He closed the rest of the gap between them and pulled Mary into a hug. 　　　　

"I’m going to be there, Mary,” he said as he pulled away. “ I just don’t think our marriage is going to work. Of course we will never be out of each other’s lives because of _her_. And I _will_ be there for her! I want to be a dad! I just... I think it will be better for _her_ if _we_ have our space." As he said this, tears of sadness at the loss of his wife mixed with joy at finding out he was having a daughter were tumbling down his face. He rarely cried, let alone allowed others to see him in this compromised state, but there was nothing he could do to stop at this point. How else was one supposed to react at the decision to end one's marriage? 　　　　

Wiping the tears from his eyes, John looked up in time to see Mary starting to collapse. “Mary! Oh my god! Mary!” He didn’t know what was going on but immediately switched into doctor mode, checking her pulse and breathing. Little did he know that in the next room Sherlock was doing the same thing to the other members of the Holmes family. Once he realized that she was just asleep, John slowly settled Mary into the chair she had been sitting in. _Why_ she had so suddenly fallen asleep was a question he was afraid he already knew the answer to. After he made sure she seemed comfortable in the chair, John stormed into the kitchen. 　　　　

“Sherlock! Did you just drug my pregnant wife?! What the _hell_ were you thinking? What if you harm the baby! If you did I will kill you myself and _this time_ it will not be a death from which you can recover!” 　　　　

“Don’t worry, John. Mary is perfectly alright and so is the baby. I made sure of it. I calculated the dosage myself. You trust me don’t you?” 　　　　

“I’m starting to rethink that decision…” John mumbled as he looked around the kitchen at Sherlock’s parents and brother all lying at the table. “Sherlock, what is going on? Why did you drug everybody?” 　　　　

“It’s all part of the plan, John.” Sherlock gave no further explanation of what exactly this plan entailed. He turned towards his brother and pulled the laptop out from under him. 　　　　

“Why are you taking Mycroft’s laptop? And you still haven’t told me the plan! I need to know if I’m going to be a part of it!” John was trying to get Sherlock’s attention but the detective just strolled out of the kitchen and walked out the front door. As always, John followed. Once outside, he noticed the helicopter that had just landed. Shaking the confusion from his face John followed Sherlock into the helicopter. 　　　　

“Where are we going?” John asked once they were in the air again. 　　　　

“Applegate. We’re going to see Magnussen.” Sherlock replied with no more details.

\--- 　　　　

_Mycroft’s weakness is his younger brother. Sherlock’s weakness is his best friend. John’s weakness is his pregnant wife._ 　　　　

Magnussen wasn’t as clever as he thought he was, John was sure of that. Oh, it was true enough that Mary, that their unborn child, was John’s weakness…but surely John wasn’t _Sherlock’s_ greatest weakness. And Mycroft probably didn’t have any weakness at all. And yet… Sherlock was playing the game so seriously. As if it really was all true. 　　　　

When the shot rang out, it felt more deafening than any John had heard on a battlefield. Sherlock was speaking to him, “You’re safe now. You’ll all be safe.” They both stood on the porch, hands in the air, Magnussen’s dead body sprawled across the pavement. And as the helicopter loomed above and the police made their way up the steps, John could only wonder, _How did I not see this before? This man died for me. This man killed for me._

\--- 　　　　

They stood facing each other on the tarmac, the plane engines whirring in the background. This was goodbye. Sherlock couldn't bring himself to look John in the eyes. John had been through so much these past couple of months, and now his best friend was leaving. Again! Oh, there were so many things Sherlock wanted to say to him, he just didn’t know if he had the courage to do so. They played at some mindless small talk, which Sherlock loathed, but he didn't want to say goodbye just yet, so he participated. John told him how he and Mary were having a girl. Sherlock tried to convince him that Sherlock was actually a girl’s name. After several minutes, Sherlock stuck out his hand to John. John took it and pulled Sherlock forward into a hug. Slowly, Sherlock participated in the embrace, wrapping John in his arms. At that moment, he got a burst of courage. 　　　　

"John, I love you," he whispered into the other man's ear. John looked up at Sherlock, more than a little surprised. 　　　　

"I love you too, mate!" He replied.

Sherlock looked back at him intently, willing him to see, to observe. “I _love_ you, John Watson,” he said again. “I have for quite some time now.” 　　　　

John's expression went from shock, to confusion, to understanding. " Sherlock. I mean... You know I'm not gay, right? I just..." He trailed off, not knowing what else to say. He was flattered, of course: who doesn’t enjoy being told that they’re loved? He was also completely dumbfounded that Sherlock Holmes would admit to having an emotion, let alone love. _And I’m not gay. Right?_ This horrible pain bubbling inside him was surely just to the fact that his best friend was leaving and they didn’t know when they would see each other again, if at all. 　　　　

When John looked up at Sherlock, he saw a hint of betrayal on the detective’s face. 　　　　

"Maybe it's better this way. That I'm leaving. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable around me. Anyways, it has been a privilege to be your friend, John. Goodbye." And before John could say anything other than a mumbled goodbye, Sherlock was already on the plane. John moved slowly the car, turning to see the plane take off with his best friend inside. His best friend, who just confessed to loving him in a slightly more than platonic way. His best friend whom he loved dearly. His best friend whom he’d killed for, and who had killed for him. His best friend who had been his one comfort in a shattered marriage. His best friend who… the realization came suddenly, whom he loved in a slightly more than platonic way. _Christ, what did I just do?! How did I let him leave without telling him... How did I not realize it myself? How could I be such an idiot!_ 　　　　

Sherlock stared out of the window of the plane at John, who was getting smaller and smaller as they went up in altitude. Sherlock finally closed the window and lay back in his seat. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a few moments to reminisce about the past 6 years of his life with John before focusing on the next task. But just as he closed his eyes he noticed a slight tip in the plane: they were descending. _What is going on? Why are we going back down?_ 　　　　

The pilot came on the speaker, announcing "Mr. Holmes, your brother has just called. You are needed back in London right away. He said your trip has been postponed indefinitely. We should be landing in about 5 minutes." 　　　　

John looked up at the plane one last time before leaving. He noticed that the plane was making its way back to the airport. _Is Sherlock coming back? What is happening?_ Just as the plane was landing, John got a phone call from Mycroft. 　　　　

"John, something happened. Sherlock is on his way back to London. I need the two of you to come to my office immediately." 　　　　

"What happened?" 　　　　

"This is not a matter I wish to discuss over the phone." 　　　　

John was about to respond when he heard his phone beep that the call had been ended. _Sodding Mycroft_ , he thought, but he couldn’t really be bothered to be angry with Mycroft. Sherlock was coming back. 　　　　

When the plane landed Sherlock disembarked quickly. John had walked up to meet him, but Sherlock brushed right past him and made to get into the car. John stopped him from slamming the door and spoke. 　　　　

"Sherlock, Listen. I just, this is all really sudden and I'm not ready to start something. I'm still trying to get over what happened with Mary, technically we're still married. I just need time to figure that stuff out. But, I mean, what I'm trying to say is..." 　　　　

"Oh, just spit it out, John!" 　　　　

"I love you, Sherlock. I love you, too! I just hadn’t realized it until you told me, and then I thought I had lost you for a second time..." 　　　　

Instead of saying anything, Sherlock got out of the car and pulled John into a kiss. John broke it quickly, but looked up at Sherlock with a smile on his face. He pulled the taller man into a hug and held him. 　　　　

"Promise me you're not going to leave me again." 　　　　

"I promise, John."

**Author's Note:**

> I am currently working on a sequel/part two picking up where this fic left off. It is much longer and will be multi-chapter. I am hoping to get the first couple of chapters up soon! Hope you enjoy and continue reading! :D


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